


One Hale of a Review

by clawstoagunfight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Derek, Coming Untouched, Crack, Dirty Talk, Future Fic, M/M, Prostate Massage, Sex Toys, Sexual Frustration, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, YouTuber Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clawstoagunfight/pseuds/clawstoagunfight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off <a href="http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/74228660496/a-fic-where-derek-earnestly-reviews-sex-toys">this post</a> on tumblr.</p><p>"a fic where derek earnestly reviews sex toys"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [thewolfthatwrites](../users/thewolfthatwrites/pseuds/thewolfthatwrites) for the plot and the beta!
> 
> This is the fic no one asked for, but the prompt was too good not to write. Somehow it might've gotten away from the actual prompt and turned into crack, but whatever. I tried.

Stiles’ new sex toy is becoming the biggest _pain in his ass_ he’s ever had. And not in the fun/sexy pain kind of way—in the _oh my god why is this not working the way it should work holy god I just want to get off_ kind of way. He’s been trying to figure the toy out for the better part of his afternoon, it having just arrived by mail earlier in the day. He charged it up and read all of the instructions—twice—but he still can’t figure out all of the buttons and modes.

It’s not even like it’s his first toy. In fact, he has a drawer full of toys that he’s collected over the years, some of them used more than others, sure—but he’s never had a problem with any of them like he’s had a problem with _this fucking toy_. It’s what he gets, probably, for buying such an expensive one. But it just looked so pretty on the website—all sleek lines and curves that he just _knew_ would feel so good inside of him.

So he’d taken the time to stretch himself really well, using a lot of lube, taking his time, and then he’d reached for the toy—and that was a couple hours ago.

Now, he’s frustrated—and not even sexually frustrated, his erection having gone down a while ago. So, Stiles gives up and admits he needs help, laying out on his stomach across his bed, reaching for his computer. He goes on YouTube, looking for a review or a tutorial on the toy, because YouTube has _everything_ and it’s a fountain of information, okay.

It doesn’t take him long to find one—a review by what Stiles thinks is possibly _the hottest fucking guy_ he’s ever seen in his life. The guy is shirtless, hair kind of messy like he just rolled out of bed—and there’s a train of thought that has Stiles’ dick twitching back to life.

The guy starts to talk, just dives right in to talking about proper preparation and lube and how amazing the toy felt inside of him and how long and hard it made him come, and Stiles bites his lower lip to keep in a whimper when the man’s eyes roll back into his head. It looks like _he_ didn’t have any problem getting the stupid fucking prostate massager to work. Stiles wants to be jealous, but the guy just looks so happy and sated, flashing a grin at the camera and holding the toy in his hand almost reverently—and Stiles really can’t fault him.

He’s too lost in the way the guy’s hands are showing how to use the buttons to actually pay attention, until he hears the guy say “it can be tricky, so if you need any help, feel free to shoot me an email at…” Stiles snaps out of his reverie and goes back, trying to rewatch the instructions.

He’s on his third try at mirroring what the hot video guy tells him to do, when he just gives in and shoots the guy and email, explaining his problem and his mounting frustration.

It’s not long before he gets a reply back; the guy trying his best to write out the instructions for him in a step-by-step way that he clearly thinks should be cake for Stiles to follow. But it’s not, so Stiles emails back, asking for clarification on step 2 and gets yet another response.

Eventually, Stiles manages to figure out how to turn the toy on by accident—when the guy finally asked if Stiles’ toy was locked and then told him how to unlock it after the fifth email—but then, Stiles can’t for the life of him figure out the intensity control or how to switch it to the different modes and then it suddenly shuts off again and he _doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong_.

He groans, once again reaching for his computer, telling the hot video guy how sorry he is to be wasting his time _yet again_ with more questions when he’s probably got a million things to do, but could he help just one more time.

The email Stiles gets back makes him gape a little. The guy says that it’s really not a problem, that he’s happy to help and loves interacting with people. He even offers to video chat, that way Stiles could ask all of his questions at once rather than having to wait for his replies.

Stiles messages back one more time, telling him that he’s not really sure about that and that he only (probably) has a few more questions.

The man replies back that he understands, but that he’d be better able to walk him through it if they were on video chat so that he could follow along.

Stiles deliberates, staring at the toy in his hand. The low level itch under his skin has been mounting all day, and he really just wants to have an orgasm—a really fucking _great_ orgasm—like the kind hot video guy was apparently able to have. He sighs and then emails the man his Skype information.

He’s got his head resting on his arm, still lying across his bed, when his computer beeps with a call. He opens it and there’s the hot video guy, his messy hair and all, across Stiles’ computer screen.

Stiles offers a weak smile. “Uh, hi.”

The man’s eyes are flitting all over like he doesn’t quite know where to look, but then they settle (probably on Stiles) and he smiles widely. “Hey. I only just realized I don’t know your name. I’m Derek, by the way. That way you don’t have to keep calling me by my YouTube handle.”

Stiles wets his lips, not even realizing it until Derek’s eyes follow the movement. He blushes. “Stiles. I’m Stiles,” he mutters.

“Stiles,” the hot video guy—Derek—says his name like he’s rolling it around on his tongue and Stiles bites back a moan. “I’ll be honest, you’re not what I was expecting by your emails.”

Stiles lets his mouth hang open. “What exactly were you expecting?

Derek shrugs and Stiles can see that once again he’s shirtless. “Either an old creepy guy who was just trying to get me to respond, or a closeted teenage virgin.” He narrows his pretty—what? When did Stiles decide that Derek’s eyes were pretty?—eyes at Stiles a little. “But then when you hesitated over video chatting, I pretty much assumed you’d be the virgin and that this is probably your first sex toy.”

Stiles snorts a little derisively. “Well, I’m neither a teenager, nor a virgin. And this is _not_ my first rodeo, which is part of the frustration, y’know, because I’ve never had this much trouble with any of my other ones put together—and let me tell you that all of them put together would probably be less of a pain in my ass than this stupid fucking toy.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles suddenly realizes how that sounds. He flushes, but Derek doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at him. “What? This is why I didn’t want to video chat. I didn’t want you to have to suffer through my nervous babbling.”

Derek’s lips curve into a wicked smile that does— _things_ —to Stiles cock. “I don’t mind, Stiles. I like that I make you nervous. Plus, there are worse ways I could spend my afternoon than talking with an attractive, naked man.”

“Naked?—I’m not na—oh _shit_! Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Mortification floods him when he realizes that he’s been laying naked on his bed this entire time, giving Derek a full view of the line of his _very_ naked body—all the way from his back to the curve of his ass and lower. He reaches out and turns the computer so it’s not facing him anymore, but then his toy and collection of lubes are on display and it just makes his cheeks burn further.

He can hear Derek laughing at him as he stumbles off the bed, desperately looking for a pair of underwear, saying things under his breath about how Derek should have _said_ something because now he feels like a perv. He finally pulls on a pair of navy briefs before settling back on the bed and pulling his computer onto his lap.

Derek is still laughing and Stiles glares at him—or tries to. It loses heat as soon as he sees Derek looking at him again—looking at him like he’s _looking at him_. “I didn’t mind. I liked the view.”

Stiles bites his lip and adjusts his computer to reach for his toy. He holds it up to the screen. “Just help me figure this thing out so I can die of embarrassment in peace, okay.” Derek is clearly amused, but he just nods before he disappears for a second. “Hey, wait, where are you going?”

Derek leans back across the screen. “I’m getting mine so I can show you.” He rolls his eyes but he’s gone before Stiles can think to glare again. But then Derek is back, holding up his own matching toy. “Okay, so just like I said in my video, this button—” he points to one, “is to turn it on. You just hold it in and—”

“That’s what I did.” Stiles says, a little exasperated.

“Show me.” So Stiles presses the button but nothing happens. He looks back to the screen with an _I told you so_ face. Derek shakes his head at Stiles. “No, you have to hold it down until it starts. And then you keep pressing to turn up the intensity of the vibration.” Derek demonstrates, turning his up all the way. He holds it out to the camera and Stiles can see the toy jumping in Derek’s hand. “Now you try.”

Stiles does what Derek did, if a little dubious that it will actually work, but the toy surprises him by coming to life in his hand. The vibrations feel good, nice and strong against his palm and he thinks about how good it will be when he finally gets the toy inside of him, pressing against his prostate, so firm and strong, just the kind of pressure he needs to get him off.

He maybe gets a little lost in the fantasy and only looks back to the computer when he hears Derek clear his throat. “Right,” his voice sounds a little breathy, “Good. Now these buttons—” he points to two of them, “control the functions. Some people like all of them, some people don’t like any of them. Personally, the rolling vibration mode is my favorite because it feels the most like someone fucking me, especially if I rock it a little with my hand so it’s rubbing really firmly against my prostate—”

Stiles lets out a choked off whimper. “Fuck,” He licks his too-dry lips, staring at Derek, “you can’t just say things like that.” He tries to quickly go through the different functions until he finds the one Derek must be talking about, but he can’t figure the damn thing out for a few more agonizing moments. But then—then, the mode changes and he feels short vibrations start. He grins, finally getting the hang of the buttons and cycling through more of them until he gets to the rolling function and— _holy fuck_.  He closes his hand around the bulbous end, over the silky smooth silicone, feeling the vibrations against his skin. “Oh my god,” he breathes, closing his eyes at the sensation, his dick hardening uncomfortably against his too-constricting underwear, feeling a little light headed with the sudden blood rush south.

Stiles hears Derek’s strangled breath and opens his eyes to look at him. Derek catches his bottom lip between his teeth and lets it drag out, leaving Stiles a little mesmerized and a lot turned on. “You know, I didn’t even get to the best part yet.” It’s practically a purr and Stiles has to tear his eyes from Derek’s mouth to look into his eyes. They’re full of mischief and something else that Stiles can’t place. But then his eyes are back on Derek’s fingers— _oh god_ , his fingers—and the other man is running a fingertip over the ridges at the top of the curve, near the controls. “This part is what makes this the king of all other sex toys and my favorite by far. It’s a perineum stimulator—basically when the toy is inside you, this part sits snug against your perineum and puts pressure on your prostate from the outside.” Derek clears his throat. “Basically, if you do it right, this baby will make you come harder and longer than you’ve ever come before in your life.”

Stiles can’t help but notice the way Derek’s face lights up a little when he talks about the toy in his hands and how he keeps running his fingers over it like it’s an old friend he’s been intimately acquainted with—many, many times. “Um, good to know.” His cheeks start to burn again when Derek looks back up from his toy to Stiles’ face. “I’ll, uh, let you go now, I-I guess.” He swallows hard, not looking away from Derek, even though he should be reaching out to end the call.

Derek leans closer to the computer, his face taking up more and more of Stiles’ screen. “If you want,” the words are a husky whisper, “I can demonstrate it for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People asked for more, so.
> 
> You're welcome.
> 
> *Also, note the rating change!

Just like that, Stiles is rock hard and ready to go. His mouth feels like sandpaper when he tries to speak, so instead he just nods—maybe a little _too_ vigorously—too full of want and need to do anything else. Derek stares at him for another moment before he’s reaching out and turning his computer screen, so that Stiles can no longer see Derek’s perfect face, but the bed that’s been in the room the entire time, not more than a few feet away. It’s a large bed; the sheets are rumpled like Derek didn’t even bother to make it because he just _knew_ he’d be back in it before long.

Stiles may or may not make a sound when Derek’s body walks into view of the camera. _Fuck_. If he thought the guy was hot before just from his face, he thinks Derek may actually be the fucking sun right now. How are those abs even _real_? And his Under Armour underwear leaves nothing to the imagination, clinging to his thighs like an outline, highlighting his musculature. But it’s Derek’s hardened dick that has Stiles’ full attention, already a solid line against the fabric, the tip trapped in the waistband of his underwear, flushed a pretty red that Stiles just wants to _taste_.

Derek bends down, until his face is level with the camera again. “The first step,” Derek says, voice still low and raspy, “is proper preparation.” With that, he slips off his underwear, giving Stiles a full-frontal view of Derek’s _a-fucking-mazing_ cock. A hand reaches out to somewhere Stiles can’t see before Derek pulls back, bottle of water-soluble lube in hand.

Then Derek moves back to lay on the edge of his bed, legs spread, giving Stiles a view of his— _everything_ —making Stiles feel flushed and hot all over. Stiles hears the pop of a cap and sees Derek pouring some lube onto his fingers. He sets the bottle aside and looks back to his computer, looking at Stiles through the computer as he brings his hand between his legs, slowly pushing one finger inside of himself—

“Fuck,” Stiles practically yelps, giving in the urge to touch himself, pushing one hand into his underwear to wrap around his cock. On the screen, Derek’s eyes are closed and he’s letting out little breathy noises, like having his finger inside of him is the best feeling _in the fucking world_ and Stiles is just lost in watching him—in the way his legs spread wider, the way his hips twitch up and down, the way the fingers on his other hand are tightening into the sheet beneath him. Stiles wraps his hand around the base of his cock, staving off getting even more worked up at the moment. “What—” His voice sounds wrecked—already—even to his own ears, so he clears his throat and tries again. “What do you do next?”

Derek opens his eyes, and Stiles can see from here how glazed over they are, see the color high on Derek’s cheeks, but then he’s looking at Stiles and grinning wickedly. “Next, you add in another finger or two. Get yourself nice and— _ah!—_ stretched.” Derek does so, adding in another finger, working his hole faster, twisting his wrist to better the angle, until Stiles sees him shudder—just a little bit—and he knows Derek hit his prostate.

Derek lets out a moan—just a little gasp of a thing—but it has Stiles moving his computer off his lap to the space between his feet and pushing his briefs off in a frenzy. He reaches for his forgotten lube and pours some onto his fingers, not even bothering to warm it before he’s pressing a finger at his own hole, hissing both at the contact and the cold. Thankfully, he’s still loose from earlier, so it’s not long before he’s two fingers in, slicking himself, scissoring his fingers, twisting them to find his own sweet spot. His fingers are long—longer than Derek’s, he bets—and before long he’s crying out, having found his prostate, back arching on his bed.

“ _Fuck_ , Stiles.” Derek sounds as wrecked as Stiles feels. “You have no idea what you fucking look like. So hot. Want your fingers inside of me, want to feel you opening me up, getting me ready for your cock.”

Stiles’ hips jerk and he looks back to his screen. “ _Shit_.” Stiles slows his fingers from their frantic movements to something slow and gentle. He bites his lip, giving Derek what he _knows_ is his best come-hither look. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?—me, fingering you until you’re begging for my dick, getting you so slick and open that I could just slide right in. You’d take me so good; feel so hot and tight around my cock that I’d never want to leave.”

Derek makes something that sounds like a whimper and then he’s removing his hand from between his legs, pulling his fingers out with a sound that goes straight to Stiles’ dick. Derek moves off the bed, stepping back toward his computer only to grab his toy and then go back to his spot at the edge of the bed again. He pops the lube and warms it before liberally coating his toy. He thinks back to Derek’s video, remembers him saying “ _you can never have too much lube_ ”. When his toy is covered, he moves a hand back to his hole, adding even more lube. Stiles can do nothing but watch, transfixed. Derek looks a lot like a pro—clinically using the lube and slicking the toy. It shouldn’t be so sexy, but Stiles can’t look away. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

Derek looks up at that, finding Stiles’ eyes through the computer screen. They just stare at each other for a long moment, before Derek breaks it, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You’re not going to think that when you realize I’ll be imagining this is you when I put it inside of me.”

And just like that, Derek is moving back on the bed, bending his knees and setting his feet so he’s spread again and Stiles can see how slick his hole is, how red and pretty it looks nestled against the dark body hair. Stiles doesn’t even have time to react or say anything before Derek turns the toy on and presses it into his hole, letting out the most _amazing_ noise he’s ever had the pleasure of hearing.

The sound filters in through the speakers of Stiles’ computer, and it’s enough to have Stiles letting out an answering one, moaning as he reaches for his toy. “Fuck, you’re a terrible person. I _hate_ you.” He mumbles the words, squirting some more lube out, but too much comes out at once and curses when it gets all over his comforter. He can’t find it in himself to care, though, and makes quick work of slicking up his toy, turning it on the highest setting, and pressing it inside of himself.

The vibrations feel like heaven, igniting his skin like a live-wire, coursing through his body before settling low in his balls. The head of the toy feels so good gliding in, good like he knows Derek’s pretty cock would feel, filling him up and pressing along his walls until it’s perfectly stroking over his prostate, the toy settled snug against him. He’s moaning in earnest now, sounds and curses spilling unintelligibly from his lips. When he realizes how loud he’s being, he bites his lip, trying to keep the sounds in.

“No,” Derek’s hoarse voice filters into his mind and Stiles looks back at the screen with slightly unseeing eyes. “No,” there’s a sheen of sweat on Derek’s face and chest and there’s a slow flush spreading down his naked body, “wanna hear you.” He’s rocking his toy in and out of his body, lifting his hips off of the mattress. “Fuck, wanna hear you fall apart.”

Stiles nods, feeling sweat start to trickle at his temples, and bites his probably swollen lip again before Derek is making a sound at it, and Stiles lets go, letting his mouth drop open as he clenches and releases around the toy, “Fuck, Derek—feels so good. Bet you’d feel even better.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” the word is a shout that works a shudder out of him. “Stiles—want you so bad. Wanna feel your cock and your fingers and— _fuck_ —your mouth. Your fucking _obscene_ mouth. Don’t know what you’re doing to me—”

But Stiles does know—he could guess—guess that Derek is falling apart just the way that Stiles is. It’s too much and not enough. Stiles’ entire body feels over-stimulated and on fire, but it’s not _enough_. “W-what do you do n—a _h!—_ next?”

Stiles swallows back a sob when Derek looks at him and the other man’s dick visibly twitches against his stomach. “Next?” He sounds a little lost, like he can’t follow the conversation because he feels so good. Derek shakes his head a little. “Next, you—you go through the different functions.” He demonstrates by clicking a button a few times until his face goes slack and his body starts to quiver. “Four,” he manages to pant out, the muscles of his thighs shaking. “Press it four times.”

Stiles tries, but his fingers are starting to tremble. Eventually, he clicks it four times, not even caring about the other functions, just wanting to feel what Derek is feeling right now, just wanting to know what that kind of absolute pleasure feels like— “ _Oh my fucking god_!” The rolling vibrations seem to touch every inch of him, caressing him from the inside, feeling fucking _perfect_ when the buzz crests at the very tip, firmly pressing and sliding and buzzing against that sweet spot, then starting all over with the perineum stimulator—roll after roll—until all he can think of is that Derek is feeling the same thing.

The pleasure builds like a wave, until he’s drowning in it, limbs trembling, body shaking like it may come apart at the seams. He’s crying out again—still—letting the sounds play like a cadence in the room, only broken by Derek’s increasingly loud noises and sounds and him _saying Stiles’ name_ like it’s his mantra.

“Derek. Derek— _fuck_ —say my name when you come. Say my fucking name.” He doesn’t realize how much he needs it until he’s said the words, but then it’s all he can think about—Derek working himself with the toy, imagining—wishing—it were Stiles cock doing those things to him, fucking him deep and hard and fast, bringing him off just from rutting against his prostate, over and over and over until it’s all that Derek can feel, until Stiles is all that he can see and hear, and his world is reduced to just the two of them together and the pleasure their bodies are taking.

Stiles is so lost in the fantasy that he doesn’t realize he’s saying it all aloud, not until Derek lets out a loud, guttural noise that sounds like it’s being pulled from somewhere deep inside—and then he’s shouting Stiles’ name—loud enough that Stiles looks back to him from where he’d been staring unseeingly at the ceiling—just in time to see his body frantically shaking, the toy held firm and steady inside of him, Derek’s cock standing up, curving toward his stomach, so hard and red and _leaking_ —and then he’s coming, untouched, shooting all the way up over his chest, to his chin, drops splattering his body like a canvas of pleasure—his body still shaking even after, working through the orgasm, drops of come still valiantly leaking out of Derek’s cock.

Stiles only lasts a few seconds longer—too overwhelmed with the image and the sounds of Derek’s body, too lost in the feel of the unbearable pleasure—and then he’s coming. He’s coming like he never has before—the pleasure like a burn that lasts and lasts, ripping a sob from his throat, his limbs jerking and convulsing until he loses control of them, body arching off the bed, the pleasure so intense it bows his spine, until the world is narrowed down to just the feel of release.

It takes Stiles a long time to be able to open his eyes after that, even longer until the buzzing in his ears turns back to sound. He reaches down with shaky limbs and pulls out the toy, before turning it off and setting it on the bed beside him. His feels boneless, relaxed like he’s never felt in his entire life. He tilts his head and looks back to the computer, noting with relief that Derek hasn’t disconnected yet. He’s still lying on his bed, just as blissed-out as Stiles is, his toy off and  resting by his thigh. Stiles opens his mouth—maybe to say something—but instead, he just laughs, small, gentle sounds in the suddenly too-quiet room.

It makes Derek sit up a little so that he can look at Stiles properly. His hair is mussed even worse now, and he’s covered in cooling sweat and come. Stiles chances a glance down at his own chest and sees his own mess, grimacing slightly. But then Derek is lifting a dark eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” His voice is wrecked, like only someone properly sexed can sound, and it makes Stiles shiver.

“I was just thinking that your review left out the most important part.”

“Oh?” Derek sounds amused rather than offended, and Stiles takes that as a good sign. “And what would that be?”

Stiles turns onto his side, cradling his head in his arms. He knows he probably looks like a hot mess—covered in his own come, mouth swollen from biting it, hair sticking up every which way—but, when he’s looking at Derek, he can’t find it in himself to care.  “That a proper demonstration is a must if you want the full experience.”

Derek’s laughter comes through the speakers and Stiles smiles. “Sorry,” Derek says, looking back to Stiles, “but I don’t do that for just anyone.” Derek bites his lip, tilting his head a little bit. “In fact, I’ve never done that before—at least, not with a stranger.”

Stiles’ smile grows wider. “Yeah?”

Derek nods a little. “I’d be willing to do it again sometime,” he clears his throat and looks away from the camera, “if you want.”

“Derek,” Stiles reaches out like maybe he can touch him—press his fingertips to the curve of Derek’s shoulder, or run his hand through Derek’s dark hair—but he drops his hand just as quickly. The other man looks back to the screen, like he’s waiting for Stiles to say something—anything—to confirm or deny. Stiles doesn’t want this to be over—doesn’t want to have to end the call and turn of the computer and pretend like he didn’t just have the best orgasm of his life because of Derek. So he smiles again and pulls his computer closer to him, imagining it’s Derek that he’s drawing closer. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Any and all comments are accepted and appreciated!


End file.
